


The Bureau Library

by Dareandwriteit



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dareandwriteit/pseuds/Dareandwriteit
Summary: Angus shares his greatest interest with the Bureau: reading.





	1. The leather bound journal

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another short story collection about everyone's favourite boy detective!
> 
> Come chat to me at dareandwriteitdown on tumblr about everything TAZ.

Angus soon found himself with money to burn. He was given a regular paycheck, unlike most employee’s. He realised it was most likely due to guilt: hiring a child was hardly the most ethical thing. But without rent or food costs, Angus found the money piling up. He wasn’t the kind of person who wanted much: he was happy with what he had. He was lucky to have anything.

It was just after Candlenights. Angus had seen the fake smiles he’d gotten when he’d handed over the Caleb Cleveland novels as presents. He’d overheard Merle trying to regift his copy at the party. (It was hard not to. Merle shouted a lot.) Angus had sat by the Candlenights bush in his room, his sole present of the crumbled macaroon in his hand. It was wonderful. He’d eaten three (three whole macaroons to himself!) at the party, and still held onto the one Taako had thrown at (to?) him like it was made of gold.

This was what he wanted to do.

* * *

The first book was an easy one. He’d seen a beautiful leather bound journal, sitting in the window of an old book shop in Neverwinter. The cover was a lovely deep blue, much like the Director’s own robes. The pages were lined with faint grey lines, and for an extra twenty gold pieces Angus got it monogrammed. He thought that an “L” for Lucretia was too personal, and instead opted for “M. D” for Madame Director.

He’d fretted over gifting it for a while. The Director kept most people at arm's length, her rare moments of levity buried in deadpan tone. Angus had only seen her smile once. It was at the Candlenights party. Taako, Magnus and Merle were doing a drunken three man juggling show with macaroons, only cheating slightly by using levitate. It was an awful mess, with powdered sugar sprinkled across the room like the thick snow over Neverwinter. Magnus kept crushing the macroons into a thick powder that was mashed into his palms. Merle kept trying, and failing, to catch them in his mouth, leaving them tangled in his beard. Taako kept flicking the treats at random members of the Bureau to keep them on their toes. Only Davenport managed to catch his, pulling off an impressive flip as he leapt through the air to catch it.

The Director, sure that the attention was on the terrible show before them, smiled. A genuine, warm smile. So simple, for what it was.

Angus considered leaving the book on her desk, but etiquette required that gifts were given in person. If you were so unsure of the quality of a present you didn’t want to be seen giving it, you shouldn’t give it all. So made an appointment - 11am, not too late or too early - and patiently waited to give it to her. He sat outside her office, present wrapped with agonising neatness and crisp blue paper.

She called him in, and Angus took a deep breath before walking in. The Director was sat at her desk, as she almost always was. She looked at Angus earnestly, hands knotted together in front of her. The desk she was sat at was piled high with books, as it always was. 

“Good morning Angus. How can I help you today?”

Angus couldn’t remember. He was suddenly terribly tongue tied. The Director didn’t scare him exactly, but she was intimidating. The present seemed like an awful idea, now he was sat in front of her. But what else could he say? She was incredibly smart, he couldn’t hope to lie to her effectively. 

He had tried once, and once was all he needed. Angus had sprained his wrist one day, by some stupid mistake. He’d been training in the icosagon, and taken a fall badly. He’d been practicing the roll Magnus had taught him to help with falls. But there had been some weights left on the floor and Angus tripped on them. He’d hoped not to make a fuss, hadn’t wanted to bother anyone. His plan had been… gosh, he wasn’t sure what it had been. For some reason he’d though getting to his room would mean he’d be able to fix it.

He wasn’t thinking well. It was rather difficult to think past the pain.

He’d almost gotten away with it. But the second he walked past Lucretia, gait and posture as ordinary as possible, she placed a hand on his head. Didn’t grab him, didn’t even try to slow him down. Just a simple pat, without looking.

“Infirmary, Angus.”

Angus had been so embarrassed and flustered that he went straight there. They fixed his wrist in an instant. The Director had asked after it the next day, and ignored his attempts to apologise. She instead gave him a knowing look, and silently raised her sleeve. On the arm without a bracer, she was wearing a bracer of another kind. It looked like a black glove the strong straps, a support for carpal tunnel syndrome.

“Please look after yourself in future, I would rather not have to compete for these.”

And the moment had been over. It was the thought of this that pushed Angus forward, made him commit to handing over a present.

Angus silently placed the present on the desk. 

“What is this?”

“A present, ma’am.”

“Angus-”

“Please.”

“It’s not even my birthday Angus.”

“Well, this isn’t for a birthday ma’am! This is a thank you present, or a late Candlenights present, or an early birthday present, or a special surprise-”

The Director untied the present while Angus was babbling, letting his stream of talk run down into nothing. He looked closely at the wrapping, trying not to make his desire to see her reaction too obvious. She carefully laid the ribbon to the side, and looked at her present passively.

“Oh.” She said, in her typical monotone without looking up from the present.

Angus’ heart dropped. “D-don’t you like it?”

She was silent for a moment. Angus prided himself of being good at reading people, but the Director? She was like glass. You were far more likely to see things about yourself in her expression than you would learn anything about her.

Except for today. 

She smiled, and held the book to her chest. In a light and breathless voice, so much younger that her face appeared, she said, “Thank you! I adore it.”

“You really do?!” Angus said, bouncing in his chair slightly.

The Director laughed, a sound so happy and pure that Angus had ringing in his ears for hours. They spent an hour talking together, about writing and reading, and if only they had the space for a proper library on the base.

But Angus’ roaming library was a good enough start. Even if the first book was one that started out blank.


	2. The Adventurer's Cookbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to give a recipe book to a chef who doesn't cook.

Angus thought he’d bought the perfect book for Taako. He’d researched for days upon days, taking notes on the odds and ends of conversations. He dropped what he hoped were subtle questions. Sweet or savoury? Hot or cold? Fruit or vegetable? 

Angus ate a lot of Taako’s recommendations that week. Asking for his opinion was the only way to honestly get it. Angus tried asking for recommendations for his own taste once or twice, but Taako abused that trust. (Angus would never let him describe food in elvish again: the sheep’s bladder dip with mouldy dwarven bread still repeated on him some nights.)

Taako loved to talk about his own thoughts about everything. The weather. Magic spells. Clothes. Every other person on the moon base. Paperwork. Painting. But food?

Taako would talk about food _selflessly_.

He almost became another person when he talked about food. It wasn’t about his preference, or even his experience. It was about the taste itself. There was a spark in him that was lit by the concepts of taste. His vague persona didn’t slip away so much as ebb aside, revealing something personal. He was an authority in a way that wasn’t propped up by insincerity, unlike his thoughts on everything else under the sun.

When Angus found _The Adventurer’s Cookbook_ he’d been certain it was perfect. It’s recipies were perfect for Taako’s lifestyle: minimal or easy to salvage components, easy to make on the go but difficult to master. It even came with a range of dust jackets in different colours.

But there was something sticking in his mind. A barb of doubt which had settled in the middle of his head and he could not pull it out to examine. The book sat on Angus’s shelf, and every day he consciously forgot to take it with him.

The revelation came during lunch in the dining hall. Angus walked in late, and at the sound of an argument he almost walked out again. Taako was yelling at one of the dining hall staff, which was nothing unusual. It was to the point where no-one else in dining hall looked up.

“-I mean Jeezy Creezy! Who’s the dipshit who blew a gasket coming up with Cream of Bullshit Soup with a healthy dose of vitamin air?”

“It’s cream of-” The dining hall cook began, but Taako interrupted.

“Bull. Shit. You heard me. Or maybe you didn’t because you fuckers have never heard of god damn salt.”

“You cook it if you’re so damn smart.” The cook snapped, throwing their ladle down and splattering soup all over the sneeze guard.

“You bet your ass I will.” Taako replied, flipping over the barrier. (With a little help from levitate, Angus noted. It was something Taako liked to called the “Literal Intimidation Roll”.) He picked up the ladle in one smooth movement and made his way over to the pot.

He moved almost without thinking. His hands grabbed at ingredients lining the wall without needing a moment to check where they were, vegetables chopped and powders grinded in fluid movement. The soup changed rapidly: a truly delicious smell drew Angus closer as he tried to make out what Taako was doing.

He wasn’t the only one: a small crowd of people gathered behind the barrier, nudging each other with bowls expectantly in their hands. Angus had to squeeze his way to the front to be able to see, but from what he could make out, Taako was putting on a show. He juggled salt and pepper shakers, pulling extra ones seemingly from nowhere. He threw vegetables in the air and diced them on the way down into the pot. He winked as he turned up the heat with a bump of his hip.

It was an engrossing thing to watch, which surprised Angus. Food had never been anything more than a chore to Angus really, a solution to the problem of a growling stomach. He ate what he was given, which was often not quite enough because of the “fashionable” portions, or he ate what was required to keep going. Cooking never really occurred to him as anything.

Taako finished his show with a complex maneuver where he landed the ladle in the pot, and then slammed down the handle, throwing soup through the air towards the cook. At the last second Taako levitated a bowl in front of the startled cook, catching every drop of the soup. The bowl floated into the cook’s hands, and Taako look a flamboyant bow.

The room burst into enthusiastic applause, with a chant of “Taako! Taako!” breaking out with some of the rowdier Bureau members. The cook rolled their eyes, and walked over to the crowd. The cook took note of the manic crowd, and picked out the politely clapping Angus with a gentle smile, and handed him the bowl.

Something came over Taako in an instant.

There was a crash as the bowl fell between Angus’ hands. The feeling was not one associated with dropping an item. He felt the bowl wrenched from his hands as though it was thrown from him. He was sure that just for a moment he could make out a faint mage hand. He didn’t have time to think about it as there was another enormous crash.

The soup pot was on the floor, the soup snaking between the tiles and leaving trails of steam in their wake. Soup soaked everything in the kitchen. The cook looked broken. Taako did not.

“Whoopsa doopsa. Guess that one’s on me.” Taako said plainly, his face entirely neutral. He walked out of the room, ignoring the grumbling crowd. He made a moment’s eye contact with Angus as he put something away in his pocket. A Low Sodium Salt Shaker, enchanted to indicate if food was poisoned by turning it pink.

Angus looked at the soup that had splashed on his shoes, and it was definitely not pink.

Angus didn’t need to know what happened. He could probably figure it out, if he really wanted to. He had all the puzzle pieces he needed to put the picture together. Taako hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with details, but he’d said a few things. He made food that made people… “not alive any more”. 

For once, Angus knew the details weren’t _important_.

Angus kept _The Adventurer’s Cookbook_. He tried a few of the recipes with varying degrees of failure, but the main thing he practiced with was macaroons.

They weren’t as good as Taako’s. They were better for the scraps of advice Angus remembered from Candlenights, where Taako had been a little tipsy and open with his cooking advice. When Angus gave them to Taako, he finally saw that spark of excitement in Taako’s eyes. He was genuine, even after he accidentally disintegrated Angus’ macaroons.

Angus gave Taako the recipe book in the way best for Taako. No reading, no following the instructions.

Just enjoying and improving the taste of the things inside it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly believe that Angus taught himself to make macaroons for Taako during those magic lessons. I don't see Taako doing much teaching outside of those.


	3. Wagon Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book for someone without words.

The next gift hadn’t been planned. It wasn’t one that was on Angus’ list of presents. He felt terrible about it, in hindsight.

Davenport was Lucretia’s assistant. He was a gnome. He could only say his own name. That was everything Angus knew about him. And if he was entirely honest, that was all Angus had wanted to know at first.

Davenport was simple.

Except he wasn’t. Not really.

Simple had a lot of meanings.

Davenport understood everything. This was no exaggeration. He followed the most complex conversations, ones that even Angus had trouble deciphering, with total clarity. Complicated calculations and mission briefings were told to him once. Then Davenport would carry out what he needed to with complete accuracy. No need to remind him of any details. No need to give him written notes. No need to give directions. Davenport was smart.

Davenport liked a lot of different things. He drank wine, but not to get drunk. He would swirl the glass and hold it up to the light. He would take sips that were so small they almost seemed non-existent, hold the drink in his mouth to savour the taste. He also liked machinery. He enjoyed tinkering with things, even if he didn’t always manage to fix things. He didn’t manage to remember the instructions for mechanical things, but he enjoyed putting things together. Davenport was complex.

Davenport had an easy to understand life, but that was because there was so little known about it. The complete simplicity of his life was something that became absurdly complex as time went on. The absence of details was the most telling detail of all. Davenport had to have come from somewhere, must have lived a life at some point before this. He couldn’t have been _born_ cursed to only say his own name. Davenport was mysterious.

Angus wanted to ask about all this. The questions bursted from the seams of his being, a thousand inquiries buzzing around like bees. 

But he wasn’t close enough to ask such personal questions. Angus wasn’t even close enough to have a conversation- well, try to have a conversation under normal circumstances.

It was unusual to start a friendship with a gift. But this wasn’t the first time they’d met. It was an apology for such a simply terrible start.

The book was one that Angus really liked. Another series by G. M. Elroy, the author of Caleb Cleveland, but not a mystery series. It was a series called “Wagon Boys”, about the creation and destruction of various wagons and monsters. It was often a little too existential for Angus, whose concept of eternity was somewhat limited by the ten years he had been alive, but seemed techincal enough to be in Davenport’s taste.

Angus had left the book, in wrapping paper with a simple grid pattern, on Davenport’s chair in the main chamber. (He wasn’t sure if Davenport even had a room of his own.) 

Angus thought Davenport liked it. The simple note pushed beneath his door of “Davenport! Davenport x” seemed to cover it.

Davenport was simple, in the one way that Angus liked. 

He was simple to read, even with one word.


	4. Dogs of the Moon: Choose Your Own Adventure!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book for someone who doesn't read.

Magnus’ book wasn’t a hard find. It wasn’t hard to give either, not in the clammy palmed and tongue tied way Angus found the other books hard to give.

No, Magnus’ book was physically hard to give to him.

Everytime Angus went out with the present on him, wrapped in paper with a goofy paw prints and cartoon bones, Magnus seemed to vanish. It should have been impossible, Magnus was built like an oak tree. Carey had mentioned he was taking rogue lessons (with varying degrees of failure) for a little while.

But why was he using those lessons against Angus? What was Magnus avoiding? What had Angus done wrong?

It worried Angus a lot. It made the gift all the more important. It was a peace offering, an attempt to patch over a hole he hadn’t been aware was there. It was no longer a gift. It was a necessity that Magnus had this book.

So when he saw Magnus across the quad after an unusually long day of research, Angus ran as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. He tried to vault over a bench in the quad, but goofed it up and ate shit. He quickly picked himself up and hurried to Magnus, who was laughing his ass off at the sight.

“There you are Sir! I was worried I wasn’t going to find you!” Angus said with a genuine smile, rubbing absently at his skinned elbow.

Magnus wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. “Geez Ango, where’s the fire?”

Angus quickly presented the gift with both hands, pressing it into Magnus’ chest. 

“It’s-for-you-I-hope-you-like-it.” Angus rushed this out in a single breath, looking down at his shoes.

Magnus took it out of his hands slowly. Angus kept looking at his shoes, listening to the paper tearing. He still wanted to see Magnus’ reaction, but so much was hanging on this book that Angus couldn’t bear to. Magnus’ silence was unbearable, so Angus suddenly felt the need to fill it.

“It’s a choose your own adventure book. It’s a werewolf one, and there’s lots of different fights and things, and I know you’d really like it.” Angus said.

“That’s real sweet Ango, but you don’t have to give me one of your books.” Magnus said, trying to hand the book back. Angus finally looked up, with a look of slight concern plastered across his face.

“No, it’s yours! I put your name in the front and everything.” Angus pushed the books back towards Magnus.

Magnus coughed, awkwardly. “You should have it Ango. Sounds like you like it.”

“But… I picked it out for _you_.” Angus said, slightly downcast.

Magnus shrugged. “Books aren’t exactly my thing Ango. Don’t get me wrong, it’s sweet and everything, but just give me an axe or something next time.”

Angus bit his lip, holding in an outburst. “Won’t you at least try it? I really do think you’ll like it.”

“I can’t.” Magnus said, in a quiet, nervous voice.

“Why not? I’ll get a different one if you don’t like werewolves…”

“No, it’s not that Angus.” Magnus’ eyes kept flickering up to see if they were alone. And once he was sure they were, he placed a hand on Angus’ shoulder. He turned a bright red as he whispered. “I _can’t_ read this.”

“I-I’m sorry Sir?” Angus asked, startled by the sudden closeness.

“I thought you were the brainy one round here Angus. It’s too tough for me. I can read short stuff and put pieces together, I can get by. But whole long books like this? The letters get all jumbled and I read the same lines over and over and… I’d just rather be doing something useful, that’s all. Making somethin’ or helping folks.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Sir. I’m real sorry, I had no idea-” Angus started reaching for the book, but Magnus pulled it back.

“Now don’t get your sweater vest in a twist ‘bout it. It sounds like a great book. Really up my alley. Turn it into a musical and I’ll be in the front row, that’s for sure.”

“What if-” Angus trailed off for a second, thinking of what he was about to offer. Was it too patronising? Would Magnus even want to spend an evening with a book he didn’t want to read? But books were so fantastic, and so comforting, and how could anyone go so long without reading _any_ of them?

Angus pushed forward.

“What if we read it together? I’ll help you with all the tricky words, and you can do all the voices, and if anyone asks you’re just reading to me because I’m a kid and _everyone_ reads to kids!”

Magnus placed a heavy hand on Angus’ head, cutting off his stream of thought.

“Tuesday’s okay for you?”

And from that point on, Angus and Magnus would take over a corner of the quad on a Tuesday night. Angus would sit Magnus’ lap, the now dog eared copy of _Dogs of the Moon: Choose Your Own Adventure!_ held in Angus’ hands. Magnus would stumble through the prose, pausing for each of Angus’ little corrections or definitions before continuing on. Magnus would always try to keep the last page bookmarked in case they made a bad choice, which Angus insisted was cheating.

It was the first book that anyone remembered Magnus finishing. And while it was far from the best written book in the collection that Angus was sharing, it was one of his favourites.

He didn’t remember the story. He remembered reading it with Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnus has plenty of reason to dislike reading, finding sitting still boring and books overly complicated being just two of them. I think of him as dsylexic which is just another reason not to try to get into them.
> 
> (I know Magnus read a book to Fisher but shhhh. He can't remember it so to me it doesn't matter.)
> 
> I wrote this in an hour while massively sleep deprived, so be kind.


	5. The (Less Than) Extreme Teen Bible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book for someone, which is for someone else.

Merle was a tricky one. Once he caught onto what Angus was doing, he blankly insisted that he only needed one book. And to be fair, Angus didn’t have much room to disagree. Merle took his Extreme Teen Bible everywhere. It has his holy book, and he was a cleric.

He didn’t make to time to read much else.

So when Angus handed Merle a large parcel, wrapped with brown paper and string, Merle immediately turned to throw it in the trash.

“No, no, wait Sir!” Angus leapt forward, with his hands out stretched. “D-don’t you want to see what it is?”

Merle rolled his eyes, and begrudgingly tore the wrapping. He threw the paper on the ground, and grumbled. 

“An extreme Teen Bible. Well thanks kid, it’s not like I already have one of those. Oh wait!” Merle raised the gaudy book out of his bag, and bopped Angus gently on the arm with it. The covers were identical: the bizarre vapour wave background of neon yellow grids and bright cyan triangles, overlaid with a picture of teenager doing a kickflip. Angus always disliked that kid: why was he wearing his baseball cap backwards? What did that achieve?  
“I-I know. But! But check inside.”

“Kid, I think I know what’s inside this damn thing by now.” Merle said gruffly, but at Angus’ welling up eyes, he flipped the thing open. He cast a cursory glance over the first pages. And then did a double take.

“What in the hell-”

“It’s a super secret surprise book Sir! For, um… M & M, if you catch my meaning.”

“Huh?” It was apparent that Merle did not. Angus leaned in close, and whispered.

“Mavis and Mookie?”

“Keep it down, dipshit.” Merle said, with a hushed voice.

“I just… Mavis told me that they wanted some new reading to do together, and since _you_ didn’t want a book…”

“I gotcha, I gotcha.” Merle interrupted. He looked through the pages quietly, rubbing at his chin absent mindedly.

“They said they’d like these, huh?”

Angus nodded profusely. “Oh yes Sir! This is the first Caleb Cleveland’s, and it’s the very best ones, and they’re pretty easy to read, so I thought Mookie could try them-”

“Shut up already. I’ll give them the damn thing.” Merle shoved both of the Extreme Teen Bible’s, only one arguably much less extreme than the other, into his bag. He began to leave, but paused on the way out.

“Thanks, I guess. For keeping this on the down low, Ango.”

“You said you’d hit me with a spanner if I didn’t, Sir.” Angus said, with shit eating grin.

“Still true, shit stain.” Merle said, flipping Angus off as he left.

Angus never heard anything about the book from Merle. But from his occasionally stone of farspeech conversations with Mavis. They really liked the book. Mookie liked the dust jacket most of all, because it made him match with his dad.

It was a successful present, even if Merle would never say as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really really short one this time. More is on it's way.
> 
> Once again, done in an hour while sleep deprived.


	6. Caleb Cleveland and the Case of the Dangerous Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book which is not intended to be romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For PetalSpitter, who created this idea for a chapter.

This wasn’t a date. That’s what everyone kept telling him. Mavis promised it wasn’t: she’d had an extra seat from the reservation her mother had given her as a birthday present that she needed someone to fill. Merle insisted that it better not be, or he’d have to take the adamantium spanner on an educational outing to Angus’ face. Taako said that she was just out for a free meal, despite Angus insisting it was her reservation. Magnus explained that girls were just as likely to just be friends as guys, and that if she didn’t say it was a date, then it wasn’t a date.

Angus wore his best shirt and shined his shoes anyway. There was nothing wrong with wanting to look nice for meeting a friend. He wore his “nice” glasses, the ones without all the scuff marks and cracks in the frames. That was a practical choice: he wanted to be able to read the menu easily. 

The only thing he regretted was the gift. 

It was too much like a date with that: he was making it weird, by bringing a gift. It had seemed such a good idea at first. He’d wrapped it in paper that looked like waves on the beach, shiny blue curves with a sand yellow ribbons. It even smelled of sea salt and vanilla ice cream.

It was too much. And now, as he waited outside the restaurant with his eyes drawn to the orange sunlight gleaming off the gift, he knew that. Why did he do this? He always got too attached too quickly: it was off putting and made him unpopular with so many people. He misjudged how strong moves were, and what they fully meant in context. And it was stupid, because he was a detective and he was _meant_ to understand motivations.

Apparently not.

“Angus?” Angus jumped at the sound of Mavis’ voice, scrambling to hide the gift behind his back. She smiled at him, a shy and sincere smile which put Angus at ease. She was wearing a fairly plain blue dress, and wore her hair and short beard in simplistic braids. Angus suddenly felt rather overdressed. “Are you alright?” Mavis asked, earnestly.

“Y-yes. Just hungry, I guess.” Angus said, pushing the door open for Mavis. She shot him the same look that Merle often did, one which screamed _Sure, kid. Whatever you say._ Angus followed her inside, feeling more than a little nervous.

The two kids were sat at the up market restaurant after a moment of hesitation from the host. He glanced over them, in search of an adult, but shrugged and sat them after a moment. It was a small table for two, with a lit candle in it’s center and a rose in each place. Angus felt hot and uncomfortable as they sat down, and waited for the menu’s to be given to them. He wanted to pull out Mavis’ chair for her, but she was already sat down by the time he thought to do it.

They sat facing each other, and they smiled with a little uncertainty. Mavis leaned forward across the table, and Angus jolted back. She looked up with a little surprise, then picked up the rose in front of Angus and her own. She carefully wrapped the roses in a napkin and placed them in her bag.

“You sure you’re ok? You’re a little jumpy.” Mavis said, as she closed her pack.

“No, no! I’m quite fine.” Angus felt himself blush and took off his glasses to polish in the hope it would distract Mavis. It didn’t work.

“Did you think I was trying to kiss you or something?” Mavis asked, sincerely.

“O-of course not!” Angus stuttered, polishing his glasses a little harder.

“You did, didn’t you!” Mavis said.

“No, because this isn’t a date.” Angus said, matter of factly.

“It really isn’t. Merle would lose his head if he thought we were dating. Not that I’d care!” Mavis rolled her eyes. Something about this seemed to lift a weight off of Angus. Hearing it from her, so directly and with a reason? It helped a great deal. She noticed this, opening her menu in front of her face to hide her relief.

“You don’t mind me taking the flowers, do you? It’s just we don’t need them, and Merle will, uh, like them.” Mavis said with a grimace.

“Hopefully not too much.” Angus said into his own menu. The two laughed, and they finally relaxed.

* * *

The evening passed very quickly. Over plates of beef ragu and glasses of pink lemonade they chatted about everything under the sun. They talked about Mookie and his wrestling matches going well. They chatted about detective work and how it was different from detective stories. They talked about gardens, and scars, and packed lunches, and swearwords, and nothing, and everything.

When Angus was wiping the remains of chocolate brownie off of his chin with a napkin, Mavis finally asked him, “So what’s that thing you’ve been hiding behind your back all night?”

“It’s nothing really.” Angus said, recovering poorly from the surprise.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Mavis said, evenly. “Can I see it?”  
Angus reluctantly slipped the gift out from behind him and handed it to Mavis. She took it with a curious expression on her face, and placed it next to her empty plate.

“I, uh, bought it for you a while ago, but I was real nervous about making this too much like a dating date? And not a friend, not dating date. So, uh, this is for you.” Angus finished lamely, fidgeting with his fingers uncomfortably.

Mavis silently opened her bag and handed Angus a gift of her own. The wrapping paper looked like repeating shelves of an enormous bookshelf, and smelled faintly of pencil shavings.

“Great minds and all that.” She said, with a shrug.

The two of them opened their gifts at once, careful not to rip the careful wrapping. They looked at their new books. They looked at each other.

And they burst out laughing.

Their identical copies of _Caleb Cleveland and the Case of the Dangerous Double_ by GM Elroy were quickly covered in pencil marks and post it notes to mark their conversation points. The copies traded hands so much it became difficult which copy had been gifted to who. 

Angus thought that it didn’t really matter.


	7. Et Mercator Artes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book with a lesson it was better not to teach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's google translate latin, so if it's wrong blame that :P
> 
> This hasn't been proofread, so please be kind!

It was supposed to be nice. It was _supposed_ to be a gift.

Of course he was the one who made it regrettable.

Angus had bought the book planetside, a beautiful leather bound thing of great collectors value. The gold embossed title was hard to read because it was so age weathered. The title and foreword were in Latin, which Angus worried might be a bit too difficult to read. He wasn’t even sure how well the guy spoke Common, let alone a dead language.

But come on. With a title like _Et Mercator Artes_ how could Angus not get it for him? 

Angus went right up to him, presenting the present which was wrapped in orange paper with small black stripes. The present was picked up, turned over, sniffed cautiously.

“You’re supposed to open it.” Angus said, nervously.

The paper was shredded, and the book was exposed to the fluorescent light. The book was held up, and shaken as though something was expected to fall out. When nothing did, it was gently licked.

“No, no! It’s a book! I thought you’d like it Sir. It’s called Et Mercator Artes, and that means-”

“You think The Merchant Arts are new to me, Garfield, the deals warlock?! You angling to make a deal, little beefstake?” Garfield yelled, which was still frightening despite the fact it was the only volume he ever had.

“No, Sir, it’s a gift.” Angus said, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

“What do you want in exchange?! I warn you, I stock only the finest supplies,” said Garfield.

“N-Nothing! I just want to give you it.”

“For what?”

“Nothing!”

“You’re terrible at mercantile arts, I am sure to be the victor!” Garfield did a twirl, as though to prove his point.

“This isn’t a _trade_ , Sir. It’s a present. You know, when you’re given something and don’t have to give anything in return.”

“A… pre-scent?”

“A pr-es-en-t.” Angus sounded out syllable by syllable. 

“And the transaction?” Garfield asked, cradling the book close to him.

“Is over.” Anus nodded, patting the book gently and beginning to walk away.

He pretended he hadn’t heard Garfield whisper on the way out. The very simple “for now” kept him up some nights.


	8. Model FV1856 and Model BOB1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A book(let) of instructions for a man who lives by them.

Avi did a lot of reading. This was something that everyone new. It was a running joke that you would see Avi using his many complicated textbooks as everything from coasters to plates to pillows when taking naps at his desk. Running the cannons at the Bureau was absurdly complicated, as Angus had found out during his training. There were near infinite calculations involved in accurately firing a cannon. Angus had felt massively under qualified to use the cannon, asking Avi if there was any way he could find someone else to take on his responsibilities while he was away. Avi had just smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair and given him a vague thumbs up. 

As it turned out, Avi had been kind of drunk. This didn’t reduce the extent to which Angus believed what he’d said. Avi was always a little drunk. It made him better at math, in his words. And considering that he’d tried to do the travel expense invoices sober, Angus believed that.

Avi would have been considered a workaholic if he wasn’t such an on the clock alcoholic. It was rare that Angus ever saw Avi do anything except drink and work.

It was about time that changed.

The box Angus dropped on the floor of Avi's office was slightly too big for him to control fully. The sound of several dozen building blocks hitting the floor was a sudden shuddering rattle that make Avi wake from his desk with start. He stared at Angus was a shocked confusion which was somewhat undermined by the sheet of paper stuck to his face.

“What broke?” he mumbled, blinking hard to try and wake himself up.

“Oh, n-nothing I hope Sir! I just dropped my model kit.” Angus said, stooping down to scoop up bricks and place them in the box.

“Why have you got me- fuck,” he swiped the piece of paper off his face, and glared at it for a moment before placing it in his to-do pile. “Why have you brought your model over here little dude? Didn’t see you as a building kind of guy.”

“I thought it would be nice to give it a try sir! I’ve never had building blocks before.” Angus said with a smile, dropping some blocks into the box. Avi used his toe to lift the lid of the box, tilting his head to read the title.

“Model FV1856? That’s a terrible name. Looks like a regular old space ship to me.” Avi said, with a smirk.

“Well, the name stands for Flying Vehicle number 1856. It looked like the cannons we used, so I picked that one. See, it has the same stripes on it!” Angus said, raising a long black piece that was to go on the ship.

“No, that’s should go on the base shouldn’t it? It’s much sturdier than those other pieces.” Avi said with a frown, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Oh, I suppose so. That makes sense.” Angus said, pulling a small booklet from the box. He flicked through the pages with intense focus.

He paused for exactly enough time.

“Could you help me with this? I’m not so great with small letters.”

Avi rolled his eyes and then rolled his wheelie chair over to Angus.

“Alright then, let’s see what we’re working with.” Avi stared at the book over Angus’ shoulder. Then he got out of his chair and sat next to him on the floor.

“You find me the elbow piece, and we’re gonna build the shit out of this thing.”

The model only took a few hours to put together, despite the few pieces Angus misplaced. It wasn’t the most social of things, just the occasional mumble as they passed the book between them, or a confirmation of a piece being placed correctly. The final product was a small but well assembled spaceship, which Angus insisted on placing in pride of place on Avi’s desk.

“Who knew you had the makings of mechanic in you Angus? You’re a good engineer. Could use you around here from time to time.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful Sir! I find these things really very interesting.” Angus said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Though, I would much rather build some of these neat models with you.”

“Oh. Right. You sure you’d want that?” Avi seemed surprising, running a hand over his hair nervously. “I’m the boring mechanic guy, wouldn’t you rather do this fun stuff with the Reclaimers? I’ve heard Maggie’s really into this building stuff.”

“Oh, I know Sir. But I’d like to do it with you. I wanted to build something new, and you’re just the best for this!”

Avi hid a smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes! I was hoping we could make something bigger next time, something like a proper space station or something.”

“Oh, we can do better than that Angus.”

It took Avi several weeks of dedicated work to reveal what he meant. He would always reply to Angus’ questions with the statement “big attraction coming soon”, and pointing to the large boxes of plastic bricks he’d begun hoarding in the corner.

The booklet he eventually gave Angus was a plain looking thing with the title, “BOB1”.

“Stands for Bureau of Balance 1. We’re going build ourselves a whole goddamn moon.” Avi said, dumping the boxes of bricks out on the floor.

The two booklets weren’t exactly books. But Angus and Avi read them with more diligence than any novel in the Bureau Library.


End file.
